


i'm so tired of pretending, where's my happy ending?

by cathrheas



Series: @cathrheas' Kinktober 2019 [13]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pegging, insensitive remarks towards the ppl of duscur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: It had been five years since the end of the war, three since they had wed, and Dimitri still said his name instead of hers.





	i'm so tired of pretending, where's my happy ending?

**Author's Note:**

> (Day 13: Pegging)
> 
> STAN DISNEY
> 
> edit to add: lmao...the lack of critical thinking is impeccable in some of the comments that i've gotten (and removed, so you might as well stop trying!). here's the facts since some of y'all are incapable of seeing them: ingrid has a very clear bias towards the people of duscur. that's in the game. didn't make that up for funsies. sad that i have to say this in the author notes of a japanese rpg game fanfic in the middle of kinktober but no, im not racist. i wrote a fic about a completely possible dynamic given ingrid's character. if y'all are mad take it up with intsys :*

“Dedue...”

Ingrid heard the name, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop moving. It had been five years since the end of the war, three since they had wed, and Dimitri still said his name instead of hers. When he did, Ingrid only pulled him closer, hoping that the digging of her nails would make him remember her.

Dimitri looked so beautiful when he was laid out on their sheets, his once unruly hair now blonde and silky and kempt. He’d flush, breathing with his lips parted, looking like an angel beneath Ingrid’s fingers. That was the only reason she agreed to do something so filthy, to attach something like that to her hips and rut against Dimitri as if she were a man; she was only doing it because it would leave Dimitri looking that beautiful, that defenseless.

But he was calling Dedue’s name instead.

Ingrid didn’t slow herself, because if she did, she would have been brought to tears. Instead, she slammed into him again and again, surprised at how easily he loosened around her. Of course, it must have been easy, when he was thinking of someone large like Dedue. Of course Dedue would split him open, bring him more pleasure than the fake thing Ingrid was using on him. Ingrid knew she wasn’t good enough, knew she was merely a replacement, but did Dimitri have to spit on her so openly by calling a man’s name in their bed? He wouldn’t even give her the satisfaction of lusting over another woman. Instead, it had to be Dedue, that fiend from Duscur—such a perfect target on Ingrid’s heart, as if Dimitri meant to wound her.

But he didn’t. She knew he didn’t intend it. He was lost in the feeling, in the sensation that he wished Dedue would give him—if Dedue hadn’t already—and he couldn’t help what he was saying.

“Dedue, Dedue,” he’d chant, like it was the only word keeping him grounded.

Ingrid didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t stop; even though it was Dedue’s name Ingrid was hearing, she’d never heard Dimitri purr so sweetly, so lovingly. It wasn’t her that was lusting after, as it should have been, but she still got turned on at the sound of his voice. She wondered if Dedue knew, if he’d bedded Dimitri before and got to experience the pleasure of an angelic sound like that.

_ His people have ruined my whole life...and couldn’t even stop at my wedding bed, _ Ingrid thought. At that point, she was trying so hard to disconnect from her emotions. She didn’t want to get excited at the sound of Dimitri’s wanton moans, she didn’t want to feel anything. Instead, she kept moving her hips, in and out, over and over. Dimitri reached between his legs, seeking out his erection.

“Am I not enough, Dimitri?” Ingrid whispers. If he heard her, he didn’t say anything. He grasped himself, stroking quickly. He was trying to get himself off with haste, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of being beneath Ingrid anymore. It was clear who he wanted, and Ingrid was both a stand-in and an obstacle. But who was she, to give up the place she earned? She was fucking Dimitri with all that she had, giving him thrusts until her hips were sore, and he still had to think of another man and stroke himself to finish.

Dimitri started to mumble Dedue’s name quieter and quieter as his hand moved faster. He sounded like a madman, grunting every time Ingrid drove inside of him and whispering more pleas. Ingrid leaned over him, still grabbing at one of his hips, then stroked his shaft herself. Dimitri moaned a bit louder, showing his satisfaction, then sighed a “yes” of approval. 

Even knowing that he was thinking of someone else, Ingrid was still too eager at how pleased he was with her. Her hand was still rough and clumsy, but he enjoyed it, because that was how he did it.

_ Is this how Dedue would do it? _

Ingrid gripped him tighter, clenching her teeth. He let out a muffled groan, but she didn’t stop, jerking him off with an anxious kind of excitement, almost aggression. “De—I-Ingrid,” he hissed.

“Please, finish off quickly, my lord,” Ingrid said. She meant to sound cynical, but she couldn’t help it. Her devotion to him trumped all, even her own bitterness. The harness bit into her skin as she dug in deeper, trying to drive him mad, rut all over him like one of those Duscur beasts would do. Dimitri was loving it, even if it was undoubtedly painful. He gripped the pillow since Ingrid had taken hold of his cock. All he could do was lay there, bent over at the knees, waiting for Ingrid to bring him salvation. “Dimitri, please...”

“Hah—Goddess—Dedue...!”

Ingrid cringed at the normally comforting warmth of Dimitri’s cum spilling across her hand, pulling out of him with no hesitation. He crumpled onto the sheets when she let him go, rolling onto his back and spurting the rest of his seed onto his stomach. Ingrid kneeled there on the bed, appalled. Had he ever came so hard when it was her name he was moaning? Had he ever moaned her name at all? 

Dimitri reached up, pulled her down to lay on top of him. She buried her face in the pillow. She couldn’t look at him. He probably didn’t even want to look at her. “Thank you, Ingrid,” he said.

“It was my pleasure, Dimitri.”

She waited for him to say something. She was trying so hard not to cry into the pillowcase, but she couldn’t help it; the tears started to fall, and she started to sniffle. That pushed him to speak. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. I...I got away from myself. I thought doing something like this would make me forget, but—"

“Worry not, my lord,” Ingrid said. She sat up, smiling even has her eyes turned red. He seemed so determined to say her name, then, as if he hadn’t been avoiding it like the plague just minutes again. “I understand. Think nothing of it.”

Dimitri smiled uneasily. “I am glad you’ve forgiven me. I love you, Ingrid. More than anyone else. Allow me to show you.”

He stripped her of the harness, the only thing that allowed her to compare to Dedue. Without it, she was just Ingrid again; the replacement.


End file.
